


Josh's Ex-Girlfriend and Greg's Ex-Girlfriend Are On a Road Trip!

by lco123



Category: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-01-21 18:31:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12463443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lco123/pseuds/lco123
Summary: “What’re you doing here?” Heather asks. Rebecca mentioned the trip in a girl gang group text, but Heather hasn’t spoken directly to Valencia about it.“What does it look like I’m doing?” Valencia replies, wrenching one of the side doors open and hoisting her bags inside. “I’m coming with you.”In helping to clean up the latest of Rebecca's failed schemes, Heather and Valencia may end up getting a whole lot closer.Post 3x01.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written for this fandom yet, but I love these two and the season three premiere made me want to write something about them. So happy this show is back!

Heather has no idea how she got here.

Wait, that’s not true. Heather knows _exactly_ how she got here. And it’s all because of Rebecca.

Rebecca walked into the kitchen one morning wearing the expression that meant she probably, like, robbed a bank and planted Josh Chan’s DNA at the scene. Which is actually kind of a great idea, revenge-wise, but Rebecca would never be able to do it without tripping all the alarms.

“What’s up?” Heather asked.

“Well,” Rebecca sighed. “I know we agreed to sue Josh, and I think that’s an ace plan. I’m all for it. But I may have done a little free-styling in the mean time, and now there’s the matter of the van.”

“The van?” Heather repeated.

Rebecca nodded. “It’s, y’know, typically van-ish. Nothing all that special. Looks like it might have played the starring role in an Amber Alert or two.” She winced. “And therein lies the problem. Even though it was sort of supposed to be the solution.”

Heather narrowed her eyes. “You’re talking like a troll under a bridge about to offer me my riddles three. What exactly did you do?”

“I sort of, um.” She slumped her shoulders, talking under her breath like a kid caught stealing cookies. “Planned to kidnap Josh and leave him alone in the desert.”

When Heather’s eyes went wide, Rebecca raised a finger defensively. “I wasn’t going to let him die, if that’s what you’re thinking. I know how long the human body can survive without food and water. And anyway, I came to my sense and didn’t do it. But it turns out the van—which I purchased from a charming young drug dealer who calls himself Speedboat—was actually involved in some robberies a few months back. So now I have to…” She made a slice motion across her neck.

“Kill Speedboat?”

“No!” Rebecca gasped. “Get rid of the car. God, Heather, how diabolical do you think I am? Don’t answer that. Anyway, Speedboat’s uncle lives in Montana and needs the van back by next week or else his whole gang is going to descend on West Covina—and I sense this is more of a ‘scatter your body parts along the Pacific Coast Highway’ type of gang than a ‘sit on the couch and process our feelings’ situation, though maybe they do that too, who am I to assign the attitudes of toxic masculinity to their group dynamics?—but apparently Speedboat can’t set foot in Montana anymore for unspecified reasons.” She shrugged, like the whole situation exhausted her. “It’s a whole thing. I don’t really know the specifics.”

“This kinda seems like a time to get specifics, Rebecca.” 

“I would go myself,” Rebecca continued, “but we have a case going to trial on Monday, and I think Nathaniel might actually fire me if I miss any more work.”

Heather scoffed. “There’s no way Nathaniel is firing you. That dude is wrapped around your little finger.” She folded her arms. “You’re asking me to drive this stolen van back to Montana.”

Rebecca nodded, looking like she was about to say more, but Heather just waved her off. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

Rebecca’s mouth dropped open. “Really? ’Cause I had a whole speech prepared. And a backup song, if the speech didn’t convince you. Sort of a Sondheim-inspired number. But if you’re willing to do it…” She frowned. “Wait, why are you willing to do it?”

Heather considered that. It wasn’t exactly a tiny favor Rebecca was asking. But it was _something_ —a clear action with a beginning, middle, and end. Not a project that Heather could half-finish before moving on to the next thing. It sounded satisfying, and purposeful. And besides, the thought of getting out of West Covina for a few days wasn’t entirely unwelcome. She’d get some time with her own thoughts, at least. Which was a much more common activity before Rebecca entered her life.

So that’s how Heather finds herself loading up Rebecca’s weird almost-kidnapping van on a Friday morning while mulling over her life choices. Rebecca left early for work, sending Heather off with a hug and about five thank you’s too many. Rebecca isn’t paying her, because that would be weird, but Heather did find an envelope containing a ridiculous amount of cash in the glove compartment and a note reading: _Buy yourself something pretty. Or maybe some nutritious food and a night or two at the least seedy motel you can find. P.S. You may end up having to spend all of it on gas. This thing is not great for the environment. Sorry!_

Heather is just about ready to climb in the driver’s seat when a voice calls out, “Hang on!” She turns around to see Valencia rushing toward the car, a gigantic duffel bag over her shoulder and a suitcase dragging behind her.

“What’re you doing here?” Heather asks. Rebecca mentioned the trip in a girl gang group text, but Heather hasn’t spoken directly to Valencia about it.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Valencia replies, wrenching one of the side doors open and hoisting her bags inside. “I’m coming with you.”

Heather raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Thought you might like the company.” Valencia lifts her shoulders like that explains everything, and even though Heather knows that there’s a whole lot Valencia isn’t telling her, the idea of making this multi-day trek with another person is admittedly much more appealing than going solo.

“We should hit the road,” Valencia says. “It’s almost ten.”

“This feels a little quarter-life-crisis-y,” Heather mutters, loud enough for Valencia to hear. But even to her own ears she sounds more pleased than annoyed.

Valencia must hear that too, because she climbs into the passenger’s seat with a smile, and she keeps on smiling as Heather drives the two of them down the street and out of West Covina.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A million years later and here's an update! Real life has been pretty crazy for the past few months, but I'm so happy to have a little time to devote to this story! Also, in case it isn't clear, I know next to nothing about cars. Not exactly one of my areas of expertise. And as a reminder, this story goes AU after 3x01.

Valencia is so quiet and still for the first couple hours of the drive that Heather actually glances over a couple of times to make sure she’s still breathing. It’s not unpleasant, or even awkward; Heather isn’t exactly eager to engage in hours of intense decoding of Josh’s Instagram captions. She gets enough of that with Rebecca.

But it’s just kind of _weird._ Valencia made the conscious decision to join Heather for this trip, but so far her only contribution has been choosing the music—which, okay, Heather _does_ love Fifth Harmony way more than she admits to most people, so she’s alright with Valencia’s choice—and commenting on the surprising lack of traffic.

“So, like,” Heather starts when they’ve been driving for nearly three hours. “You’re here…why, exactly?”

“Didn’t you already ask me that?” Valencia replies, her tone a little more cutting than normal.

“Yeah. But you didn’t give me a real answer, so I’m asking again.”

Valencia snorts. “I needed a break,” she says after a few more seconds of silence.

“From?”

“Everyone, I guess,” Valencia sighs. “It’s just…” She waves a hand in the air like she’d rather just forget this whole conversation. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Um. It’s your life, and it was enough for you to drop everything and join me, so it kind of does,” Heather points out. She can feel Valencia glancing over at her, which is mildly satisfying after all this quiet.

“There wasn’t much to drop,” Valencia says softly. “I don’t have a lot going on right now. Or maybe I have too much, or something.” She huffs out a breath. “I’m not making a ton of sense.”

Heather doesn’t say anything, getting the vibe that maybe Valencia’s been shaken out of her funk enough that she’ll keep talking if Heather lets her.

“Everyone has this idea of who I am,” Valencia continues. “But it’s like, who I am to _them_ , y’know? It’s always in relation to another person. Josh’s girlfriend. Rebecca’s…nemesis-turned-friend. I think I started seeing myself that way too, and then Rebecca’s wedding came along, and it felt like an opportunity to be my own person. Like, if that day was successful, I was also successful at standing on my own. But then stupid Josh had to be a stupid man-baby and ruin my life _again_. And now I’m back to square one.”

Heather nods slowly. She’s never heard Valencia open up like that. She’s more self-aware than Heather gave her credit for. “You’re not really back to square one, though,” she replies. “Because before you didn’t even realize that there were other squares. And I really hope this isn’t the first time someone has said this to you, but your self-worth has absolutely nothing to do with Josh Chan. You are so much cooler than that dude.”

“Oh.” Valencia inhales sharply. “Well. Thanks, Heather. That’s really nice.”

“It’s the truth. You know I don’t believe in lying. Except when you’re talking to a pregnant lady but have to pretend you don’t know she’s pregnant. Which is kind of dumb, and also why I mostly avoid talking to pregnant ladies.”

“I know I’m not always the most fun to hang out with,” Valencia murmurs. “The whole ‘friends’ thing doesn’t come that naturally to me. I mean, it’s no surprise, given how hot I am. But I’m glad we’re friends, even if it’s just because of Rebecca.”

Heather rolls her eyes. “Not anymore, though. We’re real friends. And I like hanging out with you.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” Heather confirms. “Especially when you’re not just sitting there, staring out the window and not talking to me.”

Valencia chuckles. “I like hanging out with you, too.” She cranks up the music, and they spend the next hour of the drive singing along together.

\--

The two of them skip lunch, instead opting for an early dinner at a greasy dinner where Heather is able to coax Valencia into splitting an order of fries. After the meal, which Heather deems both “disgusting” and “amazing,” they discover, much to their annoyance, that the van won’t start.

Valencia immediately begins doing stressed-sounding yoga breathes. “Okay, so, what do we do? Because we’re not getting stuck out here!” She glances around the parking lot, which is mostly empty, much like the restaurant itself, but is starting to look just a shade menacing in the early evening light. “This is like the beginning of a horror movie! And with our combined number of sexual partners and ethnic ambiguity, there’s no way we’re making it out alive!”

Heather sighs. “Don’t worry,” she instructs, popping the hood and hopping out of the driver’s side. She unties the bandana that’s been around her neck and reties it to keep her hair back, then rubs her palms together and takes a look under the hood. “Ah.” She identifies the problem immediately and gets to work. Luckily it’s a quick fix.

“What are you doing?” Valencia demands, leaning her head out the open passenger door.

“Fixing the car,” Heather replies. “Or, patching it. Just enough to get us where we need to go.” She’s still looking at the engine, so she only knows Valencia has gotten out of the car by the tap-tap-tap of the heels she insisted on wearing today.

“You know about cars,” Valencia states.

Heather gives it one last survey before nodding, satisfied with her work, and slamming the hood shut. She shrugs. “Just enough to get by. In high school my girlfriend’s dad owned an auto body shop, and he taught me a few things.”

Valencia is standing with her hands on her hips, and her mouth drops open slightly. “Girlfriend as in… gal pals?”

“If we’re using the magazine jargon definition of gal pals as code for women who have sex with each other, then yes.”

“Oh.” Valencia’s brow furrows. “I wasn’t aware that you’re…”

“Bi. Yeah. It’s whatever.” Heather has come out so many times over the years that it doesn’t faze her anymore. She wipes her brow with the back of her hand. “Gender has never really mattered that much to me.”

“I see.”

Valencia is staring at her like Heather might have just grown a second head. Heather frowns. She knows Valencia isn’t homophobic, but maybe she’s just surprised. Sometimes people are.

Without really thinking about it Heather undoes the bottom three buttons of her shirt and ties the ends together. It’s _hot_ out here, and being elbow-deep in the guts of an old van didn’t exactly cool her down. But now Valencia’s eyes have gotten even bigger, if such a thing was possible.

“You’re not going to be weird about this, are you?” Heather prompts.

“Weird?” Valencia scoffs, folding her arms across her chest. “What makes you think I’d be weird?”

“Because your voice just got, like, super high,” Heather points out.

Valencia rolls her eyes. “I’m not being weird. If anything, _you’re_ being weird.”

“How’s that, exactly?”

Valencia opens and closes her mouth a couple of times. “You have engine grease on your pants,” she finally settles on, before stomping back to the passenger’s side, her heels echoing loudly through the empty lot.


End file.
